


Strange Fits of Passion Have I Known

by waketosleep



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, Aphrodisiacs, M/M, Shotgun Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-17
Updated: 2009-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk nearly turns a simple trade mission into a diplomatic incident. Luckily, Spock will do a lot to cover his captain's ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Fits of Passion Have I Known

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to my journal in 2009.

The prospect of a peaceful trade mission to a small planet in the backwoods of Alpha Quadrant hadn't been an appealing one for Jim Kirk, at least not when they'd received the orders. It occurred to him, though, as he led the away team at a leisurely stroll into the capital, that there was always a silver lining to be found.

“Captain,” Spock murmured from his left, interrupting the appreciative look he was giving a local woman, “you remember Lt. Uhura's briefing on the local customs, do you not?”

He didn't, because he hadn't been listening to her at the time, and one would think that in the past four months Spock would have caught onto the fact that this was how he operated. He turned to his first officer to say as much and was stopped by the sight of an arched Vulcan eyebrow; apparently Spock had been learning.

Changing tacks, he grinned. “Why would I do that when I have you to keep me out of trouble?”

Spock stared into the middle distance for a moment (Jim liked to think of this as a Vulcan eye-roll). “I respectfully remind you, Captain, that we both carry scars from the last time you expected such action from me. Indeed, I am certain that Dr. McCoy will never let either of us forget it.”

Alright, so there had been running and shooting and bleeding that _one time_ , all because Jim had unknowingly slept with the incredibly hot fiancée of a warlord. In his defence, he was pretty sure that even if Spock had held him down while Uhura explained, with diagrams, the local customs of that planet, they still would have ended up running. The girl had frankly been a tease and it wasn't like she'd been wearing a sign that said, 'hands off'. It might have been handy to know about the warlord's right to eviscerate Jim with a sword for doing it, but they'd gotten out alive and he thought it made for pretty good stories.

He sighed, caving to Spock's unrelenting stare. “Give me the highlights, then.”

“Certainly, Captain. The Baishak are a peaceful people who greatly value the practice of marriage. The information which directly pertains to you is that they very highly prize interspecies relationships and frequently attempt to marry unattached visitors to locals, particularly those unmarried Baishak of high social status. When pressed, it is most expedient to feign prior attachment even if none exists.”

Jim frowned; it was shaping up as unlikely that he'd be getting any local action on Baishak'u. Uhura, who had apparently been in hearing range of the conversation, appeared on his other side.

“Don't cry, Captain; I'm sure it won't fall off if you keep it in your pants just this once,” she purred.

“Uhura!” He injected his voice with warmth he wasn't feeling. “Wanna be my pretend-wife? We can share quarters for the night.” He leered for good measure and bit the inside of his cheek when she glared back.

“In your dreams. Captain.”

A welcoming committee met them in the middle of the city centre, a paved plaza with graceful sculptures and lush plants. The smiling, humanoid Baishak in front of them were decked out in brightly coloured swaths of cloth and their slightly orange-bronze skin shone in the sunlight. Their leader, a man with fine wrinkles around his eyes, stepped forward.

“We welcome the Federation,” he said, spreading his hands. “Please enjoy our Baishak hospitality while we negotiate this trade of dilithium.”

Jim bowed, always a safe bet. When the Baishak leader returned the gesture with a smile, he thought triumphantly, _So far, so good._

*** 

There was a feast in their honour that night, in a large building that may have been part of the town hall. The food was spicy and the booze was strong and plentiful; Jim's mood was picking up steadily.

“Captain,” Spock said, leaning over slightly during the second course, “the beverage being served is over 35% alcohol by volume. I recommend more careful consumption.”

Jim obliged by keeping eye contact with Spock as he took a very careful sip from his third cup. Spock's eyebrow lifted very slightly before he turned back to his food.

“Enjoying the meal, Captain Kirk?” came the voice of the president (at least that was what Jim had decided he was) from his other side.

“Fantastic,” he answered, winking at a curvy serving girl with soft, gold skin and a large pitcher of wine. “You guys sure know how to throw a party.”

The president apparently didn't miss Jim's notice of the girl. “Are you married, Captain?” he asked with a grin.

A faint warning bell went off in the back of Jim's head; he laughed to cover his discomfort as he felt the rest of the team stiffen behind him. Uhura was probably composing some story about him being mentally challenged or something to dodge a wedding.

“Married?” he repeated. “Who needs to be married when I've got _this_ guy around to nag me?” he joked, reaching to slap Spock on the shoulder.

The president's eyes widened. Uhura was muttering something. He shot a look at Spock; the Vulcan had a pained look on his face, staring at his plate as he shook his head very slowly.

“But... you two are not married?” the president asked uncertainly.

Jim thought fast. Same-sex marriages probably weren't accepted throughout the galaxy, even if they weren't real. “No?” he hazarded.

“Oh _God,_ ” Uhura moaned. The president turned quickly to chatter at his wife in their language. The room seemed quiet and he got a sinking feeling.

“Did I fuck this up?” he asked Spock in a whisper.

Spock had a tic in his jaw. “Yes.”

“Okay, that was a little blunt.”

“Have another drink, Captain; I believe you shall need it.”

*** 

“I blame you for this, you know,” Jim said the next morning, as he held up his arms for the tailor. He would gesture more while saying it, but if he didn't stay very still he got stabbed with pins.

“Please do enlighten me with your rationale, Captain,” Spock sniped back in a level voice, watching the other tailor fiddle with his hemline. “Your logic is sure to be impressive.”

“You never said anything about them encouraging same-sex marriage!”

“I did not believe that information to be necessary.” The first officer's voice was getting tighter; he was probably livid. “I had not presumed your culturally insensitive ineptitude to be so profound. I wake each day to a new challenge.”

Definitely mad.

“Can't we just tell them it was a misunderstanding?” Jim tried. “I can be the idiot and we'll all laugh about it later.”

“It would be a mortal insult to the Baishak to refuse their kindness, and they have a large stockpile of dilithium crystals.”

Translation: Jim was indeed an idiot but there wasn't likely to be laughter.

“It's not legally binding though, right? Even if we do go through with it? What happens on Baishak'u stays on Baishak'u?” he tried.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I believe you are making a cultural reference with which I am not familiar, but the meaning is evident. Baishak'u falls under the jurisdiction of the Federation, and therefore a marriage contract executed in accordance with Federation law is legally binding even offplanet.”

Jim sagged, and was stabbed by a pin for his troubles.

“How bad is it if this trade falls through?”

“That is not an option,” Spock said. He shot Jim a faintly vicious look.

Sighing, Jim said, “Okay, I'm sorry. I owe you. We'll... we'll get it annulled, okay? Next Federation planet we see.”

From the stony silence he got in return, he was going to be paying for this one for a long, long time.

*** 

For a more-or-less shotgun wedding, the Baishak had pulled out all the stops. Jim and Spock had both been put in traditional ceremonial robes, Jim's in gold and Spock's in purple (which he looked alarmingly good in). The church was full of flowers and well-dressed Baishak who were apparently looking for decent entertainment for their afternoon. Jim could see at the front of the room, next to the white-robed official, that the rest of the away team had also been decked out in robes. They seemed to be filling in for bridesmaids and groomsmen or something, and he could see Uhura's glare from where he stood in the doorway.

He leaned over to Spock, who was standing preternaturally still beside him. “Maybe I should have asked this earlier, but... is Uhura going to murder me?”

Spock glanced at him but went back to looking around the room as he answered. “The lieutenant herself declares as much on a weekly basis, Captain. However, our liaison was terminated three weeks ago.”

Jim was left blinking. He'd had no idea. “Hey, sorry man; I didn't hear about it. Are you okay?”

“It was an amicable separation, Captain. And you did not know because I did not inform you. I presumed that it was not important for you as my superior to be made aware, due to our continued positive working relationship.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but as your _friend_ , Spock, if you needed to talk about it or something, I--” He was cut off by the swell of music. “That must be our cue,” he said instead, smiling wanly at all the attention that was now focusing on them.

“Indeed,” Spock said, actually giving his arm a little shove to get him moving. Jim resisted the urge to glare as they walked sedately up the middle aisle, side by side, with hundreds of eyes on them.

They stood for a while, and there was chanting, and then they had to kneel, facing each other, and there was some more chanting with a side of ritual droning from the priest or whatever. Finally, they were given flowers which they had to present to each other, and then they stood to face the audience and there was a lot of applause and cheering.

“No kiss?” Jim muttered through the side of his mouth as he smiled at the congregation. Spock ignored him.

At least Baishak'u was the kind of place that did wedding receptions; the food was just as delicious as it had been the night before and Jim enjoyed every bite from his seat at the head table. It was a little quieter than he might have imagined his hypothetical wedding feast to be, though, because Spock seemed fairly determined not to speak to him and Uhura on his other side was deep in conversation with the wife of the president.

The wine seemed to be more or less the same stuff as the previous night, but there was a sweet undercurrent to it that he hadn't noticed before. He wondered if Spock noticed the different flavour and could comment on the ingredients as well as the alcohol content, but he looked as if he was drinking it without even noticing what it was, so Jim left it alone.

There were toasts at the end of the meal. As the plates were being cleared to prepare for them, Uhura leaned over, probably to respectfully tell him how stupid he was, but when he looked at her Jim was shocked to see a smile on her face.

“Congratulations, Captain. You've come up smelling like roses yet again, because not only have I just successfully concluded the trade for their dilithium, they're giving us a deal now.” She patted his hand. “Enjoy your wedding night.”

Jim had forgotten about the wedding night. He sighed as quietly as he could. The prospect of having to spend an entire night alone in a room with Spock, while the man was probably plotting to kill him in his sleep, was quickly killing the buzz of a good meal. Well, the joke was on Spock, because all he'd get from Jim's estate was a beat-up bike back on Earth and a potted plant that Jim hadn't managed to kill even by taking it into space.

He plastered on a very weak smile through the toasts and then tried not to blush at all the Baishak catcalls as he and Spock were ushered out of the hall by a servant. The honeymoon suite was across a small, open-air plaza from the reception hall and was one of the nicest bedrooms Jim had ever seen. The servant quickly built up a fire in the huge stone fireplace and bowed herself out with a smile, leaving them alone. Jim looked around. The bed was, of course, the centrepiece, and it was huge enough to sleep four people without much body contact, which he found ironic. In front of the fire was a table set with wine and food; with a shrug Jim poured himself a cup before sagging into an armchair. He watched dully as Spock inspected the wardrobe, pulling out a robe and some silky-looking trousers, and then disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. Jim drank deeply.

“The shower facility is sonic,” Spock informed him when he came out, dressed in his borrowed pajamas with his wedding outfit folded over one arm. He hung it in the wardrobe and then made for the table, choosing a piece of fruit that looked like an apple and settling in the other chair, on the other side of the fire, to eat it.

Jim stared at him. His head felt fuzzy. Maybe he'd had a little too much wine. The new, sweet taste was sort of addictive, though. “I'm sorry,” he said.

“I am aware.” Spock took a bite of his fruit and chewed it before continuing. “There is more clothing in the wardrobe. Perhaps you should change.”

Jim obediently went to the wardrobe and then the bathroom, thinking vaguely of a shower clearing his head, even if there wouldn't be any water to stand under. Even after he was clean and comfortable in the pajamas, though, he found he didn't feel any better.

“Is it hot in here?” he asked as he walked back into the main room.

He realized how dumb the question was even as Spock responded to it. “Actually, Captain, I find it tolerable with the fire. I am accustomed to much warmer temperatures.” Jim noted that he was drinking the wine again.

“Was it always like a dry sauna on Vulcan?” he asked, dropping back into his chair.

Spock got the thoughtful look he always got when he was asked about his planet or his culture, but Jim noted with pleasure that it seemed less pained every time. “On the contrary, Captain; nights were frequently quite cool due to the low humidity, and there was a seasonal cycle much like Earth's. Winters could get quite cold at times.”

Jim smiled at him warmly. “Stop calling me 'Captain', dear, we're married now.”

Spock arched an eyebrow at him.

Feeling a rush of joyful immaturity, Jim stuck out his tongue. “It was a little funny, don't deny it.”

The Vulcan's lips quirked, but he covered it quickly by drinking from his wine cup. “It is unfortunate that they have not provided a chess board or similar to pass the time,” he said eventually.

Jim smiled wickedly. “I think most people who use this room have other things in mind to pass the time, Spock.”

The green tinge that bloomed on Spock's cheeks was satisfying. “An excellent point. Well, given the lack of other diversions, an early night seems most logical. It has been a long day.” Spock got to his feet, setting down his empty cup. “That wine has had some other flavouring added since yesterday,” he added, frowning at the jug before moving to the bed.

“Right?” Jim said, getting up to follow. The bed was so big they could probably share it without even noticing there was another person in there. “Fancy wedding wine,” he muttered, tugging lightly at the collar of his robe as he reached the other side of the bed.

“I'm just about dying here. You don't care if I just wear the pants, do you?” he asked, pulling back the covers.

“It would be illogical to sleep in discomfort,” said Spock. “Although I am beginning to agree with you about the ambient temperature, strangely.”

“Ooh,” Jim said, breaking into a laugh, “had a little too much to drink, there, Spock?”

He got the Vulcan eye-roll for that one. “My physiology breaks down alcohol very quickly, Jim. It would take an impressive amount to effect changes in me,” he said a bit sniffily.

“Sure thing,” Jim yawned as he slid between the sheets. Satin, or something close. Nice. It felt delicious on his burning skin.

The overhead lights dimmed and the fire burnt down to a soft glow. Jim stared at the ceiling. His skin was on fire. He was restless. With a sinking feeling, he realized it wasn't alcohol: he was coming down with something. Just when he'd thought he had all his shots up to date. Bones would be delighted, the sadistic bastard.

“Jim.” Spock's voice in the darkness interrupted his thoughts. “There was something in that wine.”

“Something besides 35% alcohol by volume?” Jim said with dread.

“We have been drugged.”

Jim rolled over. “You feel all tingly-burny, too?” He could just make out Spock's silhouette against the dim, red light of the fireplace and felt a sudden urge to slide closer.

“I am unaccountably restless.”

“Uh huh.” He'd scooted two feet across the slick sheets without really realizing that he'd done it. Spock's dark eyes reflected the firelight as they stared at each other.

“It seems to be... some kind of... strong aphro—” Jim cut him off by diving for his lips.

Spock's touch was electric on his sensitized skin, making Jim gasp and moan into his mouth and allowing him a window of advantage. Spock licked at his tongue, distracting him enough to roll him over and pin him into the soft mattress. They fought for dominance for a while, with tongues and touches, skin singing with feeling, finally breaking apart to pant for air.

Spock's eyes were closed; his head bowed over Jim's so that their foreheads nearly touched. “Jim... we... this....”

“Do you trust me?” Jim interrupted.

“Of course.”

“Then it'll be fine,” Jim said into his mouth. He felt the instant Spock relented, the sudden give in his body, the release of tension from his muscles. Jim tensed his thighs and flipped them again, sitting on Spock's legs right below his hips and drinking in the view. His robe had fallen open around him, exposing all of his pale, hard torso to the dim light. He watched in fascination as Spock shivered under him and didn't know if it was from cold or stimulation. Jim wished suddenly that the room was brighter, but left the lights alone.

Their eyes met.

“Long night ahead,” Jim said.

“As druggings go, it could be worse.”

Jim let out a startled laugh, silencing himself with another deep kiss. Spock groaned.

*** 

Waking up in an intimate tangle with his second-in-command was exactly as awkward as Jim could have imagined it would be, if not moreso. His head pounded with the enthusiastic beginnings of a hangover and flashes of the night's... diversions came back to him as he stared in horror at Spock's calm, dozing face, inches from his own. He was trying to get his breathing down from panic attack levels when Spock's eyes opened.

They stared at each other in absolute silence for a moment. Then they sprang apart, moving to opposite ends of the bed.

Jim looked up; Spock was emerald in the face and staring hard at the blankets.

“You know what,” he said shakily, “you and I have been through a lot, and someday we're gonna look back at this and laugh. Well, I'll laugh. Maybe you'll smirk a little.” He was babbling. He shut his mouth.

Spock escaped into the bathroom. Jim heard the sonic shower come to life.

He was just looking around for something to kill himself with when there was a knock on the door of the room. He jumped, and then scrambled for his pants (they'd certainly travelled a long way from the bed) before answering it.

The servant from the night before stood there, holding their neatly folded Starfleet uniforms.

“Thanks!” he said brightly, snatching them and shutting the door in her grinning face. He stared at the science blues, wondering whether he'd be murdered if he tried to put them in the bathroom, and finally just left them on the bed while he changed into his own clothes. He could wait for a shower till they got back to the _Enterprise_ ; he found himself just wanting to get offplanet as fast as Scotty could beam him.

“Please let there not be any kind of morning... ceremony... thing,” he mumbled. Sounds of Spock moving around the bathroom reached his ears, and Jim looked sadly at the uniform on the bed before steeling himself and picking it up.

“Hey. Spock.” He knocked on the bathroom door. “They brought our uniforms.”

The door opened a crack. Jim fixed his gaze on the fireplace across the room as he handed the clothes through the door. It shut again and he moved quickly back across the room, poking at the leftover food until Spock emerged, looking neat and regal as ever, except for the nervous look in his eyes.

“Let's get the fuck out of here,” Jim said, making a beeline for the door. Spock wasted no time following.

Uhura and the two other operations guys on the team were sitting in the plaza waiting for them, drinking something hot that may have been coffee-like. The president and his wife sat with them, talking cheerfully.

“Is there sweetener in that?” Jim asked, peering at her drink. Uhura gave him a strange look and pulled her mug away, as if he was going to take it.

The president stood up, beaming. “The newlyweds!” he exclaimed. “Did you have a good sleep?” And Jim had never seen a wink so dirty, not even in the mirror.

It came out of his mouth before he could stop it, or think of a more tactful way to say it. “Was there something in that wine?” he demanded. Spock crossed his arms beside him.

The president laughed. “Had some of the wine, did you? It's tradition to slip a little something in there for the wedding night. Heightens the sensations.”

Jim stopped to process this. “Heightens.... Is that all it does?”

He got a baffled look. “I suppose the alcohol doesn't hurt the experience either. As long as you don't have too much,” the man joked.

“There is nothing of a hallucinogenic nature in this 'little something'?” Spock tried.

“Why would there be? Are you suggesting we marry people who don't want to be with each other?”

“No! I....”

“Captain,” Uhura interrupted, “have we finished here?”

Jim took his opening and they said their farewells, walking out of town to be beamed back up to the ship. Jim and Spock let the rest of the team walk ahead.

“What do you make of this, Jim?”

Jim had no idea. His brain felt like it had shorted out. “Where do you want to go get this thing annulled?” he asked instead.

Spock blinked. “We are scheduled to visit Andoria, to report and finalize details of this trade mission,” he said finally.

“Fair enough,” Jim said. The gold haze of the transporter beams swallowed them up before they could say anything more.

*** 

It was another ten years before Jim and Spock set foot on Baishak'u again, this time escorting a Federation official who was evaluating the planet for full membership. The president had changed, the buildings had been updated a bit, but the Baishak still had beautiful bronze skin and an obsession with marriage.

“I'm taken, thanks,” Jim said smoothly when asked. And people claimed he wasn't a fast learner.

In a fit of nostalgia, he and Spock detached themselves from the group before the welcoming feast to go for a stroll. A local wedding between two young townspeople was winding down and they watched from the edge of the plaza as the couple was sent laughing into the honeymoon suite they'd been in ten years earlier.

Jim chuckled at the memories and shot a glance at Spock, who had a smile on his face. He laughed out loud. “I told you this would be funny someday!” he said.

Spock rolled his eyes—in the human way, something he'd picked up along the way—and shook his head. “I bow before your superior logic, Jim.”

The sarcasm had gotten worse, too. Jim looked at the wedding party. “Do you ever wish we'd changed our minds on Andoria?”

Spock turned to walk back inside, and Jim followed. “I can only imagine the crew's responses if we had. The reception party Dr. McCoy threw was... memorable.”

“Yeah, it would have been tough to wave off, I guess,” Jim said. “Still. Hey,” he said suddenly, unable to stop the evil grin that spread across his face, “do you think they still make that wine?”

“I presume that you are in fact referring to the additive and not the unaltered wine.”

“What do you think?” Jim grinned some more.

“I believe they must have some at the wedding celebration we have just witnessed.”

Jim extended his arm; Spock took it.

 

THE END


End file.
